


Primal

by BelowTheWind



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cunnilingus, Emotional Sex, F/M, Love Confessions, Oral Fixation, Post-Time Skip, Table Sex, a little bit of my own flair thrown in, a little bit of plot but, also i think i have a thing for desk sex???, because it wouldn't be a Windy fic without it, hooo boy, mostly it's just pwp, now for the tags you all have been waiting for, or s supported claude, some spoilers if you haven't finished the deer route yet, still not canon compliant though, this is post release this time damn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 03:33:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelowTheWind/pseuds/BelowTheWind
Summary: Claude has always been able to awaken something almost primal in Byleth.Byleth’s hands are cool, but not cold - a pleasant contrast to the heat of his body, which grows steadily the longer he feels her fingers exploring every dip and divot of his bare skin, hears her panting and gasping against his lips, on his tongue. His name rolls off the soft curve of her lips, her fingers skating past his sides to dig in to his back, drawing him closer with a shuddering keen and a whisper of ‘more’.He obliges - who is he to deny anything his darling professor asks for?[F!Byleth]





	Primal

**Author's Note:**

> me: *sends a pic of the title to the fe3h discord chat*  
my friend: are you writing an omegaverse fic 
> 
> no. but i will. 
> 
> some minor spoilers if you haven't finished the Deer route yet, or s supported Claude, but i touched on that in the tags. doesn't really fit in to the actual game story anywhere, but y'all can pretend it's somewhere in canon if you want. not canon compliant tho bc if claude boned byleth before the end of the game i would remember. 
> 
> with that being said, i know y'all are here for the smut, so have at it u filthy gremlins. i turned this out in a day and my adhd brain does not want to proofread so don't @ me for errors plz i am v sensitive ;^;

Claude has always been able to awaken something almost primal in Byleth. It was something she had noticed even in their earlier years together, and something that she was surprised to find hadn’t waned, even five years later. 

Those feelings, as she comes to learn that day, are more than reciprocated. 

It feels like hours before the roundtable conference comes to a close. Byleth had heard - both from Claude and Lorenz, himself - that the head of Gloucester house could be a little difficult to deal with. Which she took rather seriously, considering Lorenz was difficult to deal with, on his own. But goddess, this man never wanted to give in. He was argumentative, shrewd, and cunning. 

Byleth disliked it, though had to agree - they were fine traits for someone in his position. 

If only it didn’t exhaust her so much having to deal with him. 

For the life of her, Byleth couldn’t understand why Claude had asked her to join. She wasn’t one of the five lords, she was just an ex merc with a clever mind for strategy and battle tactics. What could she possibly hope to offer? Still, with each question or issue that arose, Claude would look to her for guidance. More than a few arguments had been put to rest by little more than a sharp stare from icy eyes. 

Claude looked absolutely _gleeful_ every time she shut someone up with a single look. 

Oh, this had been one of his best ideas to date. 

What he hadn’t foreseen, however, would be the way some of the others looked at her. Count Gloucester seemed rather interested in the curves of her body, and he swore he caught Margrave Edmund eyeing the gentle slope of her neck and shoulders when her overcoat slipped over her right arm. Claude had been hasty in pulling it back up, clearing the action with a “Wouldn’t want you to get cold, Teach.” Though the heated glare he sends across the table at the Margrave has the man shrinking in his seat. 

She may not be Claude’s, but dammit, he’s not going to let anyone get away with looking at her like a piece of prime meat. Oh, she’s beautiful. Stunning, even - Claude knows this. 

But she’s his beloved Teach, his old professor, the woman who guided him, put up with his shenanigans, backed him up against the other professors whenever he screwed up, and them promptly chastised him when they were alone. 

Byleth meant the world to him. 

So when the other lords finally leave the room, the heavy oak doors coming to a slow, swinging close, Claude is already at Byleth’s side with profuse apologies. “Goddess, if I’d known they’d have given you those looks, I never would have brought you in here. I just wanted your guidance on some matters, not to subject you to….to whatever that was. I’m so sorry, Teach. I’ll make sure they know it’s not acceptable-”

Byleth lifts a hand, pressing one, cool finger to his mouth, and the smile on her lips is gentle, mint green strands brushing her pretty face when she shakes her head. “I think the looks you gave them were certainly more than enough. Honestly, I thought they’d drop dead on the spot.” She teases. 

Claude has the decency to look sheepish, lifting his hand to rub the back of his neck, even as the other reaches up to grasp gently at the one she has in front of him, pressing a few soft kisses to her fingers, completely unaware of his own actions. “You saw that, huh?”

There’s a flush to her cheeks, now, and she nods slowly. “I’ve been able to see right through you for a long time, now. You may have thought you were being subtle, but I know you.” She points out. 

He lets that sink in. 

_’But I know you.’_

He’s not sure why it feels….so nice, to have someone get you. To see right through him, right through his schemes and the facade that he keeps for himself. It should be scary - to feel so open, so vulnerable for someone, but Byleth...Byleth has always been a warm, kind hand. He doesn’t feel afraid, to have her know him. He never really did. 

For a moment, it feels as though he’s looking at her through a thick, stained glass window. The colours are vibrant, yet murky, and her voice calling his name in confusion sounds like it’s reaching him through cotton stuffed thick in his ears. Time seems to freeze, even as he continues moving forward, continues gliding his hands along her cheeks and in to her hair, continues the slow press of his lips to hers. 

And then the window shatters. 

Everything seems to come rushing back all at once - the way she’s tensed in his arms, blue eyes wide, breath hitching in her throat. 

Shit, what did he…_shit._

Claude rips himself away from her, and Byleth is surprised to find that it almost looks like he’s going to cry. “By- Teach- I….” He takes a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I-I just- Goddess, I’ve had these feelings for you for _years_-” 

He runs a gloved hand through his hair, taking a step back; but she catches him by his white cravat that she loves to poke fun at, pulling - guiding - and then _she’s_ kissing _him_ and- 

Groaning, he’s quick to fling one of his gloves off, twisting his wrist a few times to shake it to the floor, all in order to glide his now bare hand along her face. Her skin feels as soft as he’d imagined it - both in innocent, soft touches to explain how much she means to him, and in late night carnal desires, his hand pumping his cock and wondering how soft her own would feel as she worked him over. 

He assumes she enjoys the feel of his skin, as well, as she’s grabbing at his other glove and working it off, her body seemingly melting in to his own when both hands now cup her cheeks. Claude gasps her name in to her mouth, and she answers with a resounding whimper, hands tugging open the front of his coat so they can dip inside, gliding up and beneath the yellow undershirt that had been part of his outfit since his school days. 

Byleth’s hands are cool, but not cold - a pleasant contrast to the heat of his body, which grows steadily the longer he feels her fingers exploring every dip and divot of his bare skin, hears her panting and gasping against his lips, on his tongue. His name rolls off the soft curve of her lips, her fingers skating past his sides to dig in to his back, drawing him closer with a shuddering keen and a whisper of ‘more’. 

He obliges - who is he to deny anything his darling professor asks for? 

His cock, twitching in the baggy pants laced about his hips, certainly needs her attention, anyways. Not before, however, he lavishes her with his own. “Tell me, Teach. How much is ‘more’?” He asks, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth as he pulls away, his lips coated in saliva. 

“As much as you can give.” She replies, and he’s pleased to find that Byleth sounds breathy and ruined already. 

Claude sucks in a sharp breath, voracious gleam in his eyes as he fixes her with an ardent gaze. “As you wish.” Desire drips from his tone, coating Byleth in their honey thick implications, prompting a weak mewl from her lips. 

He’s shedding his armor, then, letting it drop to the floor with a muted thud. The belt is untied from around his waist, dropping atop the sharp gold on the floor, fluffy coat following with a soft flutter. “Then I’ll do just that.” He pushes at the shoulders of her overcoat, dropping it to a nearby chair, hands settling on her waist. “Up you go.” Corded muscle strains in his lean arms as he hoists her up by the waist, setting her on the large, heavy table. Claude doesn’t waste time, not that she expects or wants him to. 

His fingers are deft as they undo the zip on her shorts, laughing a little when she squeaks as he tugs them down. They catch on her boots, however, and he pauses just long enough to grumble to himself as he takes those off, too. “Do you have to wear so many layers?” He finally complains, in the midst of pulling her leggings down and off her feet, her underwear tangled somewhere in the mix of dark, lacy fabric that he flings somewhere over his shoulder. 

Byleth doesn’t have much of a chance to respond, not that he’s giving it to her. Dropping to his knees, broad hands press her thighs open, and he’s diving forward to spread the folds of her cunt around his tongue without a second thought. 

She squeals, hips bucking under the ardent assault, fingers tangling in his hair. Shaky hands do their best to pull off the protective armor, there - not wanting to get his hair caught in the plates. It hits the ground with a sharp clink, and then she’s free to fully bury both hands in his hair. The steady tug at dark brown locks prompts him on further, and he nips lightly at one of her lower lips, nuzzling her thigh affectionately. “Hold yourself open for me.” He all but demands, and she does just that - spreading her folds with two fingers, tugging just enough to free her already tingling clit from its hood. 

Claude almost attacks it with his tongue, flicking up and down with sharp lashes that have her convulsing on the desk, shrieking and wrapping her legs tight around him, heels digging in to his back. He doesn’t let up - if anything, he presses in further. 

One hand smooths up her inner thigh, dipping beneath his chin to reach her cunt, two fingers sliding in as easily as one might slice through butter. She’s absolutely soaked, puddling a little pool on the table and on to his hand. He can feel her slick dripping down his wrist, and he’s glad he had the foresight to at least remove his coat before anything else. 

The ache in her cunt is almost unbearable, quenched only by the curling flicks of his tongue - an oxymoron in the way they’re somehow sloppy, yet precise. His fingers curl inside her, blunt nails an odd feeling against her inner walls, yet absolutely fucking divine all the same. His tongue bathes her cunt in his saliva, breath coming in hot puffs of air against her already overheated folds. 

He feels her toes curl against his back, one of her hands sliding down as she hunches over him, nearly holding him to her as she bucks against his mouth and sobs his name in blissful rapture. 

Claude is more than aware of the wet slick sticking to his face, stringing between her puddling cunt and his tongue, looking up at her with dark green eyes, dark lashes framing sharp emerald making them all the more predatory. 

He licks his lips, lifting his head just enough that Byleth, curled over him, feels his wet mouth brush against her own, greedy and depraved as he catches it and swallows her moans. Slender fingers tug hard at his hair, and he hisses, nipping at her lower lip, pulling back slightly. 

Byleth mewls against him, hand scratching up his back with sharp nails. He’s pretty sure there’ll be marks there, but he’ll wear them with pride. 

“So-” She gasps, and he cuts her off with a sharp thrust of his fingers. 

“So what, Byleth?” He teases, throaty and deep. 

Byleth whimpers, drops her head to rest her forehead to his, and he’s pleased to find her licking her lips, as though savouring the taste of herself on her tongue. “Don’t tease.” It sounds like she’s trying to order him, and he almost laughs. Her tone is quivering, breathy and weak. Utterly debauched and hoarse from all the beautiful noises she’s made on his tongue alone. 

Goddess, he can’t wait to hear the utter symphony she’ll make when he gets her on his cock. 

There’s a primal sort of satisfaction at the way she finally cums on his fingers, and he’s quick to lean in and lap up the mess she’s making, humming pleasantly as she continues to sob and tremble above him. “You came without telling me, Teach.” He looks up at her, resting his cheek on her thigh with a pout. 

His face shines in the setting light from the sun outside, and he briefly realizes that they didn’t have any torches set in the room. 

Well, no bother. If he keeps her here that long, the moon will be just bright enough. He can’t deny that he’s curious to know how she’d look in the moonlight, anyways. Sweaty, well fucked, and being driven to new heights that she didn’t think she could cross, all with his fingers, tongue and cock. Her back arching, body twisting, hair a mess…

He has to stop himself there, or he’ll bend her over the table and fuck her till she the only words she remembers are please, and his name. 

No, Claude wants to enjoy this. To drag it out. To watch her fall apart, so needy for him that she can’t stop her cries and pleas from filling the spaces between them - ragged and agonized. “I tried.” She whimpers, and he drags his tongue across his lips, still shiny with her slick. “You kept- kept teasing.” 

It’s adorable how she can’t get out more than two words without having to suck in a lungful of air. Was he really that good? It wasn’t like he had a lot of practice, or anything - he just wanted to please her. 

Pleasing her was pleasing to him. 

“Did you try hard enough?” Claude teases, turning his head so the tip of his tongue can lick a thin stripe up the bare, quivering skin of her thigh. Her entire lower half must be a hot bend of sizzling nerve endings, he muses, as the single action has her uttering a sinfully cute squeak, hips lurching. 

“Th- I tried!” She argues yet again, though, sounding utterly ruined, he finds it impossible to take her seriously. 

Claude chuckles, kisses her clit again. “Try harder next time. Spread yourself for me.”

She almost sobs. “N-No, not again- Claude, that’s too much-” 

He nips softly at her thigh. “I know you can handle it, Byleth. I wouldn’t push you further than you could. I promise.” 

Byleth sits there for just a moment, before, fingers shaky, she dips them down between her thighs to display herself for him again. His lips press to her clit, and she squeals, hips twisting and pressing up in to his face. 

Satisfied that she’s got it covered, Claude lifts both of his hands and dips them under to grab at her ass, lifting her up enough that he can drag her up against his face. 

She almost cries. 

The sounds he makes between her legs are entirely debauched, lewd, sloppy. She can hear the messy, wet sounds as he swipes his tongue - drenched in saliva and her slick - up the entirety of her parted folds, sucking and swallowing as she almost floods his mouth. “I-iitt’s not- not polite to….to slurp your food-” She manages to prod, in between sharp squeaks and gasps of air. 

Claude is rather impressed that she has the capacity for banter at this point, and can’t deny that it’s a little hot. He grins, looks up at her, feels the short hairs of his beard sticking to his skin, “Just means I’m enjoying my meal, Teach. I’d take it as a compliment.” 

He lowers his mouth again, busies it with her cunt and all but devours her. 

Byleth slumps back against the table, unable to keep straight at the constant assault of his mouth on her pussy, one arm thrown over her eyes as she moans, loud and clear. Claude’s cock twitches at the sound, and he’s suddenly made painfully aware of his own arousal, throbbing incessantly in the loose pants slung low on his hips. 

He moans against her, toes off his boots and tugs at the laces of his pants. They drop to his knees, and he hooks one thumb in the band of his undergarments, tugging them down gently, hissing as his cock finally frees itself with a messy little splatter of pre cum against the floor. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, curls his lips around her clit and gives a little suck, “I wish you could feel how hard I am.” Claude swipes his tongue up the length of her cunt, teasing around her entrance for a moment, dipping inside to swirl in a small circle before pulling back again. “Just from eating you out. Goddess, you taste so good.” He gasps, lowering his hand - still soaked from fingering her earlier - to his cock, hissing as he smears her slick around hot skin. “I’m gonna indulge just a little more.” His tongue dips over to trail along one side of her folds, then back down the other. “Hang on for me just a little longer, Byleth.”

She doesn’t even have the capacity to answer, should she want to. 

His tongue curls inside her, spreads her on him, moans and pumps his cock that much faster. He can hear the soft slap of his fist as it meets his skin, hear the wet sounds of her slick acting as the perfect lubricant for his hand. 

“Claude, please-” Ah, there it is. And he didn’t even have to bend her over to get it. 

He’s never been able to say no to his beloved teacher, and now is no exception. With almost scary precision, he swirls his tongue inside her, licks a quick, firm stripe right up to her clit, lashes at it with his tongue, and sucks it between his lips. 

Claude really hopes everyone has gone home after the conference, or is, at the very least, far out of earshot. 

Byleth nearly _screams_ when she cums for the second time. Her entire body writhes, convulses, bucks up against his face and then tenses there, her back pulled taut as a bow. The entire time, he works her through her orgasm, tongue lapping at the mess, cleaning her as best he could - despite the growing puddle under her ass, sticky strings of slick connecting it and her thighs to the heavy wooden table. 

It takes her a few minutes to actually come back down to reality, gasping in ragged gulps of air, her arms still flung over her eyes. Once her faculties return to her, she’s aware of Claude standing between her legs, one hand on her thigh, the other - still coated in her release - slowly pumping his cock. 

The head is flushed, his thumb swiping over it and smearing white, viscous cum along the shaft. “Byleth.” His voice is hoarse, skating his hand up her thigh and over her hip, resting flat against the table at her waist. She pulls her arm back, looks up to meet his gaze, whimpers as his lips touch hers. She can still taste her cum on his tongue, feel it stick to her cheeks from where they rub against hers, his nose and lips wet from her orgasm. 

When he finally pulls away, he does so with the breath from her lungs, leaving her chest heaving as she desperately reaches out for him. Her lips touch his throat as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, and he gently guides her further upon the table. If it weren’t so sturdy, he’d be worried about it breaking beneath their combined weight, his body draped over hers. 

Claude lets go of his cock, instead gliding his hand up and over her stomach - fingers tracing her abs - and over her collar bone to grasp at her chin with his thumb and forefinger. His lips part hers once more, tracing the back of her teeth with the tip of his tongue. Byleth’s nails dig in to his shoulders, her thighs parting to make room for his hips. 

It’s an unspoken agreement, but even so, he pulls back to meet her gaze. Her hands, uncaring of the mess on his cheeks, slide across his face, nails lightly scratching at his beard in a way that has him purring in response. “Yes.”

He chokes out a thankful moan, hand grasping his arousal to guide himself inside her. She’s utterly soaked, and his previous work only served to open her up that much more for him. Byleth takes him like she was born to, like he was made for her, and her alone. 

_”Believe in what you will, kiddo. But I think you and that little lady are written. Nothing else makes sense.”_

Nader’s words ring in his mind as Byleth’s cunt wraps so perfectly around him, as her eyes meet his, her lips curl in to that soft smile he’s seen only a handful of times, and, dammit - his old man is right about something, for once. 

He loves her. No one else fits him, his life, quite like she does. 

Claude was worried, at first. Leaving Almyra, planning a long battle to unify Fodlan - at times, he wondered if it was possible. But with her at his side, he knows he can do it. Leaving her, when this is all over, that’ll be rough. Returning to Almyra to convince his father to give him the throne, to lead the people in a new, unified life with their westernly neighbours. But he knows, the only one who can help him achieve that dream? It’s Byleth. 

He buries his face in her neck, hips twisting, undulating, feeling her back arch off the table and press her body firmly in to his. Despite the way she slots herself against him, she still feels so soft. Every inch of her body gives way to the hard planes of his own, from her breasts pressed against his chest, to her soft legs, strong, and tangled with his. 

Byleth’s hands are skating up his arms, his muscles trembling as he holds himself above her, his nose brushing against her own, sharp gasps tumbling from her lips each time he snaps his hips to hers, buries every inch of himself inside of her, those pretty little lips making absolute music to fill the stillness of the air outside their lovemaking. 

The slap of his hips into hers accompanies the symphony of her lurid keening, blue eyes shaky, wavering, even as her fingers grip at the lean, broad expanse of his back to tug him that much closer. It feels like the cotton is stuffed in his ears again, and he wonders if, watching her lips curl, the three words she keeps repeating over and over, in gasping, panting breaths, are exactly what he thinks they are. 

He’s not sure if he returns the sentiment aloud or not, but her whole face seems to break in to a relieved sob when he feels his lips move, forming words that his heart knows but his ears can’t hear. Her hands grasp at the sides of his face, fingers dipping back in to his hair as she pulls him down to her lips, kisses him over and over and over again - he wonders if she can taste his heart on his tongue. It’s certainly beating loud enough in his throat. 

His hips stutter, his appetite for her burning brighter than the energy he thought he had. His eyes were bigger than his stomach. Everywhere, things are _more_. The beating of his heart thuds louder, the light in his eyes grows brighter, the heat in his stomach gets hotter, the feeling in his heart burns fiercer. 

Claude isn’t even aware that he’s kissing her again until he feels her crying out against his lips, sees her skin, normally such a pristine, light shade, flushed and mottled red with specks of heat, prickling along her skin. He wonders if the tingling he feels in his face and chest is a product of the same heated, exerted effect. 

The grip of her cunt around him is perfectly exquisite, hot and wet, and her body moves so perfectly against his and- goddess, she’s cumming, he can feel her, he can _feel_ her- and that hazy, stained glass window doesn’t just shatter - it utterly explodes.

All at once, everything rushes back to him. The world catches up, and suddenly he can hear every high pitched cry that warbles off her lips in perfect clarity, feel the rushing heat of his orgasm creeping along his lower back and abdomen, the strain in his arms and thighs, the scratches on his back. Colour is vibrant, hot, and he watches as mint green hair sticks to her sweaty skin, her lips pink and flushed and “Goddess, I love you-!” he was right he was _right_.

Emotion crashes over him like a wave, kicking his orgasm in to high gear, and he fills her with a shaky moan, “love you too-” praise and affection mumbled in to the sweaty skin at the crook of her neck. 

Claude shakes when he comes back down, slumped against her with gasping breaths, his nose still against her throat as he peppers the skin there with dozens of short, sweet kisses. As his senses return to him one by one, he feels first, Byleth’s fingers running slowly up and down his back, and then he hears, her soft gasping, struggling to get her breathing under control. He can taste, the sweat on her skin, on his lips. Sees the marks that his tongue and teeth left on her once pristine skin, now sure to be bruised come tomorrow morning. He can smell something that’s distinctly her - like sunshine and steel, with the lingering of sex. For a second, he wonders if he really catches a surprising undertone of Almyran pine needles, or if he’s just projecting his favourite things to her because goddess, he loves her so much. 

He hears her sniffle, and looks up at her, worried. “Byleth- I- Shit, did I hurt you?” Claude lifts himself off her, despite the protests of his muscles, to hurriedly survey her body. 

Byleth gives a soft, slightly watery laugh, lifting her arms to wrap them around his neck, peppering kisses along his face. “No, Claude. I’m just...really happy.” 

He swears that his heart swells, the smile on his face threatening to split his face in two. “You and I have a lot to talk about, after this.” 

She chuckles, skates her fingers up his back again. “We do. I think we’ve both been hiding some important things for far too long.” There’s a soft, warm edge to her tone, one that Claude will never get tired of hearing, especially directed like that, right at him. 

“I love you, Byleth Eisner.” He watches her eyes water again, and she laughs softly as he lifts a hand, thumb brushing away her tears. “I just wanted to make that clear.” 

Byleth kisses him, then, and his heart isn’t going to be able to take this. She’s gentle with him. Soft. Careful. Running the back of her hand along his cheek, brushing away a lock of hair. When she parts from him, it’s soft, slow, almost regretful - like she doesn’t want to stop. 

But then she’s closing her eyes, resting her forehead to his. “I love you too, Claude von Riegan.” 

His heart thumps, and, for the first time since coming to Fodlan - he feels like things really, truly, are going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, feel free to hit me up @ windy-scribbles on tumblr if you have requests or just wanna chat  
i've finished the Deer and the Lions route so i'm down to chat about either!


End file.
